Hiding from You
by darkangelazure
Summary: Nathan and Peter get into another arguement during their Mother's funeral, upset and angry Peter gets shoulder butted by Cadice but then it begins, Peter absorbs her power, shocked he runs into a near by bar and tries to figure out his new power and how h
1. Chapter 1

Dsclaimer: I do not own any of the characters featured in this fic, it's just a bit of fun, don't sue me!!

Title: Hiding from You

Summary: Nathan and Peter get into another arguement during their Mother's funeral, upset and angry Peter gets shoulder butted by Cadice but then it begins, Peter absorbs her power, shocked he runs into a near by bar and tries to figure out his new power and how him and Nathan can reconcile they're latest breakdown.

Rating(s): PG-13 (NC-17 in later chapters)

Warning(s): Bad Language and Alcohol.

Spoiler(s): Slight spoiler for episode 23 on the first series

A/N: Super thank you to **karathephantom** for the fic idea and being my beta!

Chapter 1

000

Chapter 1

Standing in front of shiny glossed oak was like watching a film. He could see the back of his own head, his shoulders covered in endless black and feet clad in shoes that clicked against the wooden floor. Feeling the cold stab of heartache press against his chest, he pressed his fingernails into the palm of his hand, so just for a moment he could concentrate on that pain instead of the one that was lying in the casket.

Cancer. He'd always thought his mother would go out with a bang, but instead it was in a soft, expensive bed in a white, polished, and high class apartment in Paris, looking over the Eiffel Tower. It had all started with headaches that she seemed to cure with Ibruprofen and a G'n' T.

Now here he was, looking over her painted face. It was the Petrelli way to have an open coffin, but it just made him feel sick, like he was going to spill his guts over the expensive wood that was encasing his mother. He wanted to crush the perfectly white lillies in his hands, watch the stain of orange on his palms; even the smell of them made his stomach turn. He needed a drink; a big, stiff drink, the type that stripped paint and burned on the way down.

The service went in a blur, and the wake only consisted of dealing with people he didn't even know, people saying how sorry they were. Peter could have punched every one of them but he didn't, because standing next to him was the last member of his family, the one everyone knew was going to be the new head of the family, the one who would pull it off without a hitch. Nathan.

Standing strong and stable - dress clothes had always suited him - broad shoulders and hard jaw line, he was the one dealing with the people, not Peter. He couldn't handle the groping handshakes and false tears, it only pissed him off. So instead, he left Nathan to do what he did best, smile and lie through his teeth with well placed "thank you's" and the occasional tear.

So he sat at the bar ordering straight Vodka; his hair winning the battle against the gel that had held it back only hours before, but now it hid him from the prying, gossiping eyes. The curtain of glossy black covered his unshed tears and flushed cheeks.

People were starting to filter out, and Peter didn't even look over his shoulder as people patted it in an overly personal way, like they knew him, like they knew the pain he was going through. Peter knew what real pain was, it was having your skin grow back, or the burn of the first breath you took for the third time, or even growing your own body back from a nuclear explosion. That was real pain, and he hated everyone that thought they understood.

"Peter," came a soft timbre voice, pulling him from his vicious musing. The feel of a heavy palm and the pressure of an affectionate squeeze seemed to seep through the black; he knew who it was without having to even look. Nathan.

"What?" he asked, taking a sip from his glass with a wince. This was definitely paint stripper, it burned on the way down, and it tasted like hair spray. Perfect.

''How're you doing?" Nathan asked. Peter could feel him take the bar stool next to him, hearing him order scotch on the rocks made him grimace just thinking about it, made him take another drink of his own.

"I'm doing just great; I just buried my mother, and for all I know she probably knew she was dying and didn't even tell me, so yeah Nathan, I'm doing great." Bitter sarcasm lingered in the air as he put his glass down with a click, but after a minute or two Peter could feel something was wrong because Nathan hadn't said anything.

'Why hasn't he said anything...? No... No, they can't have done it. Not again!' Peter thought as it finally dawned on him.

"You knew!" He exclaimed. He turned to look at Nathan, and noticed that he wasn't even looking at him, but was staring into the rows of upside down bottles behind the bar.

"Knew what, Pete?" he scoffed, finally looking into his brother's eyes. 'There's that spark', Peter thought. He knew when Nathan was lying because of the slight glint in his eyes. Nathan had never been able to play poker with him without wearing sun glasses and that smile, that fake smile that Peter thought looked plastic and was plastered all over New York on peeling posters and 15 foot high billboards.

"You knew she was dying, and you didn't even tell me! It's dad all over again, you're lying to me again, after everything we've been through, you're lying to me again!" The stool clattered to the floor as he lept up from it, looming over Nathan, hurt and betrayal replaced by white hot anger.

"Peter, calm down. It's not what you think; after everything that happened we thought..." Nathan tried to explain but was cut off.

"Yeah, everything that happened! We thought...! We thought! You lying son of a bitch! Everything we went though, and you still ball faced lied to me! God damn you!" Peter shouted, trying to stop himself from hitting his brother square in the jaw, his hands shaking as they clenched and unclenched. The half moon cuts on his palms started to sting again but it didn't even register anymore.

"Gentlemen, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," They heard from the side of the room. The bartender must have heard everything.

"Don't worry, I'm gone," Peter spat, tearing his heated gaze away from his brother's.

Weaving through the New York crowds, Peter slowed his pace, taking angry strides and catching his breath. A woman in a school skirt ran into him, throwing him the finger and spewing a string of obscenities as she faded into the throng.

"What a bitch,"

Peter thought. Then he felt it. Hot lead seeping into his stomach, his veins felt like they were pumping electricity. He knew this feeling. He gasped as he ducked into what looked like a quiet bar, bolting for the bathroom and slamming the lock across the stall.

Gripping the rim of the toilet seat, his lungs burned as he drank in the air. He could feel his body adopting the new information, it felt like having insects crawling all over him, it tickled and made him feel sick all at the same time.

Then it stopped, the tickle and the electricity; all he was left with was his hammering heart. As he willed the rhythm to become normal, the patter against his chest slowed and his lungs inflated with ease.

All he could feel now was his own sweat cooling on his brow. Standing on shaky legs, he stumbled out into the rest of the bathroom and over to the sink, where he splashed cold water onto his face. Switching the faucet off, he grabbed a paper towel, wiped his face and hands, and looked into the mirror.

"Shit!" He pushed himself away from the sink, only to slip and fall with a thud onto his behind. Wincing as he rubbed his sore rear, he didn't even have the courage to look back into the mirror. But how could he resist the temptation? He pulled himself up, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the porcelain.

"This is not good." The statement echoed through the room as he stared at the reflection staring back at him. The same searching brown eyes he'd seen so many times.

But everything else was different, his dark, glossy hair replaced by a soft, mousy brown wave, thick and streaked with blond and black. His eyes drifted to his fuller peach-toned lips, his clean-shaven jaw.

Then he remembered. Her. That women in the school skirt, he must have gotten it from her! Just as she'd rammed into him, there had been a flash of light, it had rippled and bent as his shoulder connected into hers.

"She bends light," He muttered, trying to rid the pit of his stomach of the feeling. He saw the sink's form wobble, like a stone being dropped into water. The light bent and trembled, and as he focused his concentration, it bent back, returning gently to its stable form.

Shock and awe were painted across his new face, but then broke into an ecstatic smile, as he looked back at his image in the mirror.

"Cool!" he shouted like a giddy teenager. Smoothing a hand over his new face, Peter couldn't shake the grin that was plastered to it. He ran both hands over his still suit-clad body. Took inventory.

"Same body, different face, different hair, different voice!" He coughed and rubbed his Adam's apple, as he tested the new pitches and tones he could create. "Hello. He llo."

His new voice was smoother and slightly higher then his old one; it felt like silk over his skin just hearing himself speak aloud.

"I'd do me," he joked, looking appreciatively at himself. Then it dawned on him, the terrible realization striking like a bolt of ice.

"Can I change back?"

He thought, running his hand through new hair. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the feelings he'd felt; pulling together the anger, annoyance, outrage and pain. Opening his eyes, he saw the familiar black fringe and his five o-clock shadow. But as he examined his face, he noticed his feet weren't touching the ground. Looking down at his dangling feet, Peter could only think of one person. 

"Nathan." He landed back on the ground, his knees nearly buckling as he thought about what had happened. He could feel the unshed tears burn as he thought about his brother's betrayal. 

_"How could he do this to me, to us?"_ Peter thought brokenheartedly.

"Peter!" 

He knew that voice.


	2. Chapter 2

Dsclaimer: I do not own any of the characters featured in this fic, it's just a bit of fun, don't sue me!!

Title: Hiding from You

Summary: Nathan and Peter get into another arguement during their Mother's funeral, upset and angry Peter gets shoulder butted by Cadice but then it begins, Peter absorbs her power, shocked he runs into a near by bar and tries to figure out his new power and how him and Nathan can reconcile they're latest breakdown.

Rating(s): PG-13 (NC-17 in later chapters)

Warning(s): Bad Language and Alcohol.

Spoiler(s): Slight spoiler for episode 23 on the first series

A/N: Super thank you to **karathephantom** for the fic idea and being my beta!

Chapter 2

000

Chapter 2

"Peter!"

He knew that voice.

"Shit!" He dove back into the stall. He couldn't face his brother yet, he knew if he did he'd either beat Nathan within an inch of his life, or he'd burst into tears and damage his pride. Neither sounded like a route he wanted to go down, but an idea popped into his head. Pulling the feelings back, he opened his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face to reassure himself.

Walking calmly out of the stall, he spotted his brother. He quickly averted his eyes to the sink and washed his hands. Taking a paper towel, he started to walk out of the bathroom.

"Excuse me."

He panicked silently. _"Did he really catch me that easily?"_ He tried to come up with an excuse in his head. He turned on his heels, facing Nathan's critical, dark eyes, trying not to break his composure under the stern gaze.

"Yes?" He coughed, trying to pull out the other voice. He repeated the word desperately. "Yes?"

"Have you seen a young man in his late twenties? He's got black hair, it sort of hangs over his eyes?" Nathan asked, his own eyes searching for any flicker of recollection in this oddly familiar stranger.

"No, sorry, I haven't seen him," he answered. He tried to get it over with quickly, shrugging for added effect.

"Are you sure?" The man was hiding something, he was shifty and looked uncomfortable. But the oddest thing was his eyes, they had that same deep and bittersweet chocolate tone that seemed to drag a person in, just like Peter's.

"Yeah, I'm positive." A beat of silence." He'll probably turn up, you never know," he offered. He could see Nathan was on his scent, and he needed to throw him off as much as he could.

"Sorry to bother you." Nathan sighed, this guy didn't know anything. He could tell, he could always tell if anyone was lying to him. Well, not _anyone_. Peter was the only person that could slip a lie right past him and still come out smelling like roses, but he'd always liked the way Peter seemed to get under his radar and still have the best reasons for it. He knew Peter didn't lie unless he was forced to.

Looking at his own reflection in the mirror, Nathan was disgusted with himself. He stared into his own eyes, the hate pouring out then reflecting back. He couldn't take the heat of his own self-loathing gaze; he pulled away from his reflection and let his head roll back. As he stared at the ceiling through half-opened eyes, he sighed the only name that meant anything to him.

"Peter."

"Hey." He turned his attention to the voice from behind him. The man was still there, staring at him with Peter's eyes.

He was quite handsome, a lean but not-too-skinny frame. The subtle highlights of blond and black in his hair were attractive in the sense that it all looked natural; his lips looked like they were every bit as soft as their color was alluring. Then there were his eyes. Nathan was totally transfixed with them, they were the same deep, soulful brown he'd seen so many times before. Looking him in the eyes was like looking into his brother's, and the scariest thing was that he felt that same churn of lust, love and shame at the pit of his stomach. 

The underlying attraction he'd always buried with work and his campaign - not trusting himself with Peter - had being going on for years now. If the chance came for him to have his brother he'd probably take it, and that terrified him. The only person he couldn't control himself around was Peter, and it was always his eyes that had caught him so wholly.

"You wanna get a drink?" Looking at his brother, Peter didn't feel the anger or hurt, just love. He hated that his heart strings were so pulled by the way Nathan looked at himself. He could see that Nathan felt bad, and he hated that he'd done this to him, even though the logical part of his mind told him it wasn't his fault. _"Blah blah blah."_ At the end of it all, his heart always won out.

"No, I should be getting home. Just in case he calls." He sigh exhaustedly and rubbed his face. It had been a long day, and if he had a few drinks, he knew he would take the man to a hotel. He didn't want all the stigma of the morning after that came with great one night stands. And just by looking at him, Nathan knew it would be a fantastic one.

"If he wants to talk, he'll call your cell, won't he?" He found it absurd that "he" was talking about himself. The total cheesiness of what was happening seemed like it was something out of an old Lifetime movie or a bad airport novel.

He opened his eyes slowly, and they locked into the other man's eyes. _Peter's_ eyes, staring at him from another body.

"Please, just one drink? I mean, I feel bad and everything, that I couldn't help. Let me make it up to you," he joked. Nathan could see that glint, the playful spark that Peter flashed when he was being mischievous, or when his playful nature shined through. Those were his eyes, but this wasn't Peter, and the hand wasn't Peter's, but there it was. Peter coming through, like his eyes were portals to something he could never have.

"All right, one drink," Nathan sighed, managing a small, tired smile as his shoulders slumped in a small sign of defeat. It had being a long day and with Peter pulling one of his disappearing acts, he did need a drink. If he wasn't buying, and at least had some pleasant company, Nathan really saw nothing wrong with it.

"Great!" Peter said with a smile of his own. He did feel bad. After everything that had happened; the lies, the betrayal and the conspiracies that his brother was involved in,it all seemed to be insignificant because of that day, the way he'd held him as they flew through the night. The way he'd pressed against his brother as his body glowed and pulsed with pain and energy. But it had gone back to the lies and the deceit. He couldn't help the sickly feeling of shame that came as he looked at his brother. Nathan's pain was his fault, so offering a simple drink was the only thing Peter could think of to make him feel better, and hopefully Nathan too.

Walking through the swinging door of the restroom, Peter pulled a bar stool up for himself. The dark shiny surface of the bar was pockmarked with years and layers of varnish. It was a typical bar, the lights low, but high enough for comfort; the decor a mixture of dark wood and forest green leather. Booths sectioned off by rippled, painted glass, their simple spiral red and green roses darkened by shadows moving fluid and distorted behind them.

"Vodka and a Scotch on the rocks please," Peter ordered, as Nathan sat down on the stool next to him.

"How did you know I liked Scotch?" he asked, an eyebrow arching gracefully as he took in the other man's profile; watching as his eyes shifted nervously for a brief moment. Then he turned with a small lopsided smile and his head resting relaxed and confident in his hand, as his elbow propped on the bar.

"You look like the type of guy who does."

With that smile and his soft brown eyes, he was looking more and more like Peter. Nathan was finding it harder to breathe, but even more frighteningly, he was finding it harder to walk away from the situation. A tantalizing glimpse of pale flesh through the other man's opened collar, his loose tie and relaxed smile - it all screamed "Peter," and Nathan couldn't stop himself.

Nathan flashed him a flirtatious smile of his own. The click of their glasses alerted him. Gripping the glass between his fingers gently, tilting it a little, he picked up his drink. The other man grabbed his own, mimicking his actions.

"Well, you're right. Cheers," Nathan said, dropping his voice a little. As he was taking a sip of his drink, their eyes locked. Mahogany and chocolate lost in each other over the rims of their glasses.

Resting his glass back on the bar, Nathan loosened his tie, pulling the black meterial between his fingers before unbuttoning the top of his shirt, opting for comfort over formality.

"What is your name, by the way? I never caught it," Nathan smiled. He was used to this; he knew he was attractive to both sexes, and he'd even been propositioned on occasions. He never really taken it up though, even though there was Las Vegas... But he'd never consider it again, women were, for the most part, messy. And having a mistress was out of the question; but there was something about this guy, the way he moved and the openess of his eyes that always brought him back to Peter.  
_  
"Why can't I get him out of my head?"_

"Uh.. my name? Oh, my name is..." 


	3. Chapter 3

Dsclaimer: I do not own any of the characters featured in this fic, it's just a bit of fun, don't sue me!!

Title: Hiding from You

Summary: Nathan and Peter get into another arguement during their Mother's funeral, upset and angry Peter gets shoulder butted by Cadice but then it begins, Peter absorbs her power, shocked he runs into a near by bar and tries to figure out his new power and how him and Nathan can reconcile they're latest breakdown.

Rating(s): PG-13 (NC-17 in later chapters)

Warning(s): Bad Language and Alcohol.

Spoiler(s): Slight spoiler for episode 23 on the first series

A/N: Super thank you to **karathephantom** for the fic idea and being my beta.

Chapter 3

000 

"Uh.. my name? Oh, my name is..."

_"Shit, shit, shit! Calm down Peter, you can do this. Um... Shit!"_

"Alex! My name's Alex." Peter laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he set his glass down.

"Nice to meet you Alex, I 'm Nathan." He offered his hand politely. He seemed sweet, in an open and kind way. But he was closed as well; something was a little off, like he enjoyed letting you think he was vulnerable. Those eyes seemed to hide something deeper and darker, like black chocolate. The type that was bittersweet and gave you that burning that made your nerves set on fire and made you crave more, and it kept jumping back to Peter, that constant tumble back to his eyes and his hair and his smell. God, Nathan couldn't get enough of the way Peter smelled of dolce and gabbana, the sweet musky tang mixed with the natural scent of Peter that he'd fatasized about tasting so many times before.

Feeling warm flesh grip against his skin, the soft feel of warmth from another's touch seemed to seep into his hand and give him a slight thrill that ran down his spine. The touch felt familar and unrequited all at the same time, and Nathan found himself slipping away from the touch, out of the sheer shock that his emotions were so vivid. But he never let it show. Keeping himself bottled was second nature, but this was strange, stranger then flying or someone coming back to life becuase something about this "Alex," called to him, seemed to call those feeling only Peter could conjure in the same fashion, through just being near him.

Taking another sip of his drink, Nathan began to relax a little more. He felt the slight burn ebb away, leaving a warm glow behind as he watched Alex down his drink quickly.

"Do you even like Vodka?" Nathan asked him with a chuckle as he watched the wince fade away from his features.

"Not really, but it does its job," he replied with a tired smile. Peter could feel it working, the soft buzz was starting to sink in and he was feeling more light hearted, the grief and pain of loss slowly becoming numb as the bartender topped him off.

"Sorry, I've had a rough day," Peter apologized. Looking at his brother, he could see why people found him attractive. Dark haired and charming, you could tell he was well-built underneath the Armani and Gucci suits that were tailor-made for him. The shark like smile and deep eyes could make any women - or man - melt on the spot, but Peter had always loved the scars on Nathan. The smooth line just under his jaw and the criss-crossed pink lines that adorned his chest alongside the round jagged shrapnel marks were all beautiful to Peter.

"I know what you mean," Nathan offered, noticing the slight glow that hummed round Alex. Maybe it was the alcohol taking effect, but he was captivated by the way Alex's light blond highlights glowed gently and his eyes grew glassy and black, like obsidian marbles framed by dark eyelashes.

"I shouldn't be so depressing, I'm supposed to be making things up to you. I just... I lost someone today, it's just been a shitty day all around." Peter sighed, running his finger around the rim of the cool glass.

"It's okay, it can't be any worse then mine. I buried my mother today, and I ended up pissing off Peter again... I try and protect him, but he's always so god damn difficult, he always has to do the big stunts and make a fool of himself. I love him, I can't stop loving him, but I want to throttle him most of the time," he finished, taking another sip of his drink and feeling slightly embarrassed at his long confession, but never letting it show.

Then he heard it the light rumble, soft and smooth like bubbling water tumbling over pebbles and rocks. That low chuckle that grew infectious, so that he found himself laughing along with the man next to him until they both ended up wiping stray tears from the corners of their eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it. You just described the relationship I have with my brother." Really Peter was laughing at the lunacy of the situation. Nathan had never being this open with him. and hearing the way Nathan described their relationship, he was somehwat glad they agreed on the way they saw each other.

"So are you the older or younger brother?" Nathan asked catching his breath and taking another drink, running a hand through his hair before resting his elbows on the bar.

'I'm the younger brother... You?" Peter knew the answer, but it never hurt to keep up pretenses. He enjoyed this Nathan, open and conversational. Maybe this was happy, drunk Nathan, just-getting-there Nathan; whoever this Nathan was, Peter liked it, and he could already feel himself starting to forgive him. Not the forced forgiveness that so often came with siblings, but the true forgiveness, the type you only got when you had the patience to listen to the other person. Feeling the warm buzz spread and the heat grow in his cheeks, Peter knew he could watch him for hours.

"I'm the oldest," Nathan stated with a smile tipping his glass in a mock toast to his position in the family.

"Ah, the heir!" Peter joked, bowing his head, his smile growing to its full potential.

"Hey, don't even go there. It's not all it's cracked up to be, at least you're not expected to be perfect. Well, at least, Peter never was," Nathan said matter-of-factly, watching as his glass was refilled.

"Ah, yes, but there's the flaw. How do you ever feel like you're important to your parents if they never expect you to amount to anything?" Peter pointed his finger at his brother, the glass gripped with the others. The buzz intensified as liquid heat seeped into his body. He could already feel his mind clouding over, soft and slow, as he leaned on the bar.

"Bottom line is, parents suck and all they leave you with are their flaws-"

"And funeral expenses," Nathan finished for him. Both of them could feel the corners of their lips tugging and soon their soft chuckles had grown into uninhibited laughter.

Breathing heavily and facing each other now, Nathan could tell that he'd had enough to drink, but he kept his composure. He could tell "Alex" had had more than enough to drink as well; his flushed cheeks and glazed brown eyes gave it all away. But the only name he could think of as he though of this was the one he was trying to forget; the man with his eyes just pushed that name into his fogged mind.

Leaning forward, Peter could feel his limbs turn to jelly as he felt his body tip over. He felt the shock of falling, only to be jolted by a warm grasp. Tense and hard, it crushed him more than comforted. He felt warm breath over his lips; the smell of Scotch and faded coffee making him open his eyes.

"You wanna get out of here?" Nathan asked, his voice low and his warm breath ghosting over Peter's lips. It felt damp and laced with alcohol.


End file.
